


Worry, Worry, Worry (For Some Reason)

by NervousAsexual



Series: Whumptober 2020 [18]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nocturnal Panic Attacks, Not Much Hurt/Mostly Comfort, Panic Attacks, very weird, which apparently I've been having on and off myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27080530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NervousAsexual/pseuds/NervousAsexual
Summary: After waking up a little concerned he's having a heart attack, Preston heads out for a drink of water. Nick helps as best he can.
Relationships: Preston Garvey & Nick Valentine
Series: Whumptober 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960987
Kudos: 13
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Worry, Worry, Worry (For Some Reason)

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober prompt #18--panic attack

Preston woke up shaking and drenched in sweat, which would have made more sense if the weather was hot or cold instead of a pleasant middling temperature.

For a moment he lay on his back and watched the shadows of the trees and knotholes in the shack play on the ceiling. His mouth and throat were not only dry but filmed over--every time he tried to swallow there was a split second where he wasn't sure if he could. All around him were the sounds of people sleeping. Sturges, snoring in the room to his right. The Longs, both of them, mumbling to themselves in the room to the left. Normally the sounds were calming and he would slide off to sleep within moments of collapsing on his sleeping bag, but tonight his mind kept going, running on and on with no particular topic in clear focus.

In the morning he would have to get started on a new well. A small contingent of Minutemen were supposed to come through, and he couldn't remember if he'd warned the guard at the Sanctuary bridge ahead of time. Then he needed to work on fortifications along the north edge of the settlement, check on the new garden plot just outside the brahmin pen, talk to the single dad with two small children who had turned up just before dusk to be sure they were getting all that they needed...

 _You gotta get some sleep_ , he told himself. Instead he kept staring at nothing and trembling hard enough to be a little alarming.

A drink, then. He definitely needed some kind of fluid. He unzipped the sleeping bag and braced himself against the wall as he stood. Being upright made him suddenly, acutely aware of a shooting pain right up and down his sternum. Okay. He was potentially having a heart attack. In the middle of the night. At the age of twenty-two.

Definitely needed something to drink.

He opted to skip putting on his boots on account of if he leaned over he suspected he'd fall over and not be able to get up. He did grab his coat off the hook on the wall and wrapped it around his shoulders like a blanket. The pressure of it was warm and comforting. He was still shaking.

He stumbled through the common house shack and out to the street. The weather was so mild and the leaves on the trees were just starting to change. Every star in the sky, it seemed, was visible, along with the bright quarter moon. Sanctuary was very still. Everyone was safe. This was the most solid settlement he'd ever lived in.

He padded down the sidewalk in his bare feet until he got to the water pump, which stood beside the settlement workbench, separated by a low tire wall. It was easy to recognize Nick Valentine's battered shape, sitting there framed by moonlight.

"Morning," he croaked.

Nick, arms crossed on his knees, glanced over. "Morning. You're up early."

He grabbed the ladle out of the wash-bucket and drank straight from there. He dumped half the water on himself but got enough in his mouth to dampen the film and make him need a drink even more.

"Doin' okay?" Nick asked as he pumped a new ladleful. "You're lookin' a little unsteady."

"Woke up like this." He took a third drink, and a fourth. "Chest hurts too."

"Yeah?" Nick stood and stretched and came closer. "Mind if I...?"

"Yup," Preston said, though he had no idea what he was talking about.

Nick put his good hand on Preston's forehead and then his cheek, then moved his fingers down to the pulse in his neck. "Your heart's going like a jackrabbit. Something on your mind?"

Preston shook his head. It surprised him how good it felt to have someone calmly and gently touch him. "Woke up like this."

"Sweaty? Kinda sick to your stomach?"

He nodded.

"You sure you're not worried about something?"

"I'm worried all the time about all things," Preston told him.

At that Nick gave a quiet laugh. "Ask a stupid question... I wonder if you didn't have a panic attack."

Preston considered. He'd never had anything he'd ever thought of as a panic attack. He associated them with losing control more than any other symptom, just because all the others--racing heart, going numb, being sweaty and struggling to breathe--came with the territory of serving in the Minutemen, and he tried very hard to never lose control. "Doubt it. I just woke up a couple minutes ago."

"Okay. So it sounds like you had a nocturnal panic attack." When Preston just blinked at him, tired, dizzy, and unsure what was happening, he added, "Some people have them at night, while they're asleep. I used to..." He stepped back and gave Preston a thoughtful look. "...used to know somebody that had 'em. Long time ago. Every so often you just wake up and realize you're shaking and sweating and your anxiety's going through the roof."

"Please tell me you're joking."

Nick smiled at him and shook his head.

"So what am I supposed to do about it? How do I make them stop?"

"Well, here's the thing." Nick glanced away and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I don't think you can. It's basically just condensed anxiety, right? You can't keep yourself from having a panic attack any more than you can stop being anxious."

This was not helping his chest pain at all. "Of course. Life is struggle, after all."

"I like to think it's a little more complicated than that, but yeah. Pretty much." Nick turned his eyes on him again.

Preston rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I have so much to do tomorrow but I'm never going to get back to sleep."

"About that. I think I know something that might help."

Nick led the way around the house and pointed out the children's playground equipment that must have sat there for the last two hundred years--a broken jungle gym, a slide. Nothing else, except...

"How long have those swings been there?" he asked, squinting at the swing set.

"An hour or so. Figured those kids ought to have something to do around here that's not chores." Nick eased himself into the farthest swing. Hooking his elbows around the salvaged chains, he gestured to the other.

Preston gave the swing a doubtful look but stepped up to it. When he tried to sit it just pushed away.

"You gotta hold the chains and sort of hop up."

"I've never been on one of these before," Preston admitted. It took a couple of hops but he made it.

"No? I'm sorry to hear that. I don't know why they're so relaxing. Maybe they just make me think of kids. Just about every kid I've ever known has loved 'em." Nick looked out across the settlement and pushed himself gently back and forth. "Even the ones who can't balance on them. The ones in wheelchairs or with back injuries or just the ones who are too little, I mean. But if you put enough thought into it you can make a bigger swing, or one that glides instead, or something like that."

Preston's own balance wasn't quite back yet, but as he pushed himself back and forth he noticed he wasn't shaking quite so hard.

"It's a little extra effort, and it's not necessarily something other people will get much use out of, but it's good for them. It's good to show them that just because they can't do things the same way as other folks doesn't mean they can't still do things."

The weather was so mild and the stars were so beautiful.

""It's important to show them that they have just as much value as anyone else. And that even if it takes a little extra effort to help them you'll give that extra effort." Nick glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "You know what I'm saying?"

Panic started to rise back up his throat. He'd missed some opportunity to help somebody. That was what Nick meant. He'd failed somewhere--again.

But then he looked over at Nick and saw the concern on his face. For a moment he didn't understand. Then:

"Oh!" he sat up a little straighter on the swing. "Me. You're talking about me."

Nick laughed. "What did you think I was... never mind, not important. Yeah, I'm talking about you."

He was actually starting to feel a little tired. Maybe he could go to sleep, and maybe this wouldn't happen again.

But what if it did?

"Preston?"

"Hm?"

"Sometimes all you can do is get through it. Sometimes you just think, what's the point, when this will happen again some time down the road? But it helps to have somebody to remind you that you're worth the extra effort. And you are."

He felt like crying. "Thanks, Nick."

"No problem. Want me to hang around a little longer?"

"Yeah. That would be nice."

They stayed, swings swaying slightly under the stars. Preston was right. It was nice.


End file.
